Without uncovering the secret clarity within my timorousness,you accuse me of selling out to men at a rate of exchange fordividends to survive, but that declaration proves that youhave simply tried to ignore the dirt on your own kneesthrough polishing that libertine shame onto my morality.

And as I view your ladder of amelioration fall into the gasolinewith a open box of matches ready to complete the suicidal deed,I'm like a dog barking anger in your direction because of the way you'vedisrespected me, but honestly, I just want to hold your hysterical fingersin my hand and show you how to discover clarity through peace with oneself.

Because I'm emotionally fatigued from every poem I write discussing thesame desired solution to your unhappiness, yet in reality can never find thebravery to abandon this anti-hero status and assure myself that obsession withpen, paper and the alphabet is not an indication of my own disconsolate heart,thus disproving hypocrisy for wanting to love you when I don't even love myself.

And I could wait until the destruction of language occurred before enchanting youwith the first kiss capable of warming away the winter of ten thousand years,but it is certain by that time you'll be long departed and my lifetime would then only be describableas amorphous, therefore this temporary resignation from my normal self today due to yourdeterioration will hopefully give me future confidence in decision-making for both of our fate.

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